Cheering Up Arthur
by solluxed
Summary: Alfred comes home from school to discover his apartment destroyed by fire. His only remaining hope is to take the free trip to London, awarded by the board of education. There he meets a young man, Arthur. Human AU, OOC-ness. If that doesn't bother you, carry on. (Work paused for now)
1. Chapter 1

_*RRRIIIING*_

Finally, the bell that signalled the end to the day's classes rang. Students were rushing to the door in excitement, ignoring the shouting teacher, desperately trying to fit in reminders to "_Do your holiday homework! Remember! 5 pages at the least!_" Amidst the crowd, was a tall, blonde boy, with blue eyes, glasses, and a cowlick. His name was Alfred Jones.

This boy practically ran out of the stuffy lecture theatre, to retrieve his bag and hurry home. It took him 3 attempts to open his locker; he was in that much of a rush.

You see, Alfred received a letter, not that long ago. It told him that, due to his exceptionally high grades in the math, science, technology and media areas of study, the board of education had decided to send him on an all-expense-paid trip to London, to a gathering of some of the most successful students from every country. Of course, he wasn't one of those students, only chosen to be part of a sort of moral support team for the actual chosen individual, but even so, Alfred jumped at the opportunity.

He was leaving tomorrow.

As he raced down the street home, something seemed off. There was smoke coming from somewhere nearby but he assumed it was a barbeque. Turns out it was not so.

As he got closer, he could smell burning wood and chemicals, hear sirens and people crying. Something was very wrong.

Alfred stopped in front of a scene of pure chaos. Jaw slack, eyes wide, he stared at the charred remains of his apartment block. Everything was burnt to a crisp. Only a few walls and timbers still stood, crackling and fizzing in the way that quenched fires do. Fire crews were pouring litres of water on the structure in an attempt to stop the blaze re starting. People were standing around, in shock, some crying, others hanging on to the few possessions they managed to salvage for dear life. A woman was being attended to by paramedics and Alfred could see huge angry blisters starting to form on the raw, burnt flesh of her leg.

What.

What is this?

My stuff.

My cat.

Comics.

Clothes.

Money.

My laptop.

Everything.

It's. Gone.

What?

No way.

This isn't happening.

Alfred collapsed on the spot, numb, face in his hands, overwhelmed and confused his mind a flurry, when the weight of the situation hit him. He had lost everything. Gone from a successful high school student, to a homeless man with no possessions in the blink of an eye. His parents were on the other side of the country, one hospitalized, and the other in rehabilitation, so they couldn't help. What in god's name was he going to do? How was he going to live?

But there was a sliver of hope, he realised. The trip tomorrow. All expenses paid until he decided to return, right? No longer than a couple of months allowed, but he could try and survive there for a bit. Of course, all he wanted to do at that moment was break down and cry, mourning the terrible loss in front of him, but at least he had some hope, unlike those other people who truly were left stranded.

Alfred spent a couple of moments trying to comprehend his predicament, and then slowly walked away from the wreckage, mind still a mess.

Need to get to the bus stop.

Where is it again?

Oh, I'm here already.

2$ for a ticket?

I think I have that much.

Maybe.

He dug around in his pocket for some coins, finding that he did indeed have the satisfactory amount to purchase a ticket, handing it over to the Italian driver. He then proceeded to make his solemn way to the very back of the bus, where he sat down for the hour long drive to the airport. Then and only then, Alfred let a couple of tears slip through. It was a relief to finally be able to pour the emotions out. The people on the bus were sparse, so nobody stared.

**_an hour later_**

"Oi, bastard, wake up, you need to get off the bus. We're going no further than here."

"Uuurg"

Alfred said groggily, forcing himself to wake up, the driver staring at him as if he were an irritating vermin, existing only to delay his break.

Where was he again?

Oh yeah, the airport.

Why again?

...

...

...

O-oh.

The fire.

Tears threatened to spill again, but Alfred managed to stay steady.

"Uh, ok. Give me a moment"

"Hurry up then, will you? I've got other stuff to do than sit around waiting for you to get your pansy arse off here"

"Rude Much?"

Alfred muttered. The driver overheard and gave him an even dirtier look.

He didn't care. But instead of provoking the driver further, he clambered off the bus and walked slowly to the entrance of the busy airport.

******0o0o0o0o00o0o0o0o0o0o**

Inside the airport was pure havoc.

The good kind.

Electricity, buzzing in the very atmosphere. People were shouting in all sorts of foreign languages and accents, running, walking, sitting, waiting. Some eating at cafes, some strolling through the no tax stores, some already boarding a plane or checking in. Some were even sleeping on the chairs or next to a wall, because their plane was delayed or not arriving till quite a while later.

It felt so alive; Alfred was caught up in it and almost forgot about what he was here for.

Almost.

He walked up to one of the staff to ask if he could borrow a blanket for the night. The Chinese man looked at him strangely, but nevertheless, brought Alfred a blanket, while muttering to himself and shaking his head. "Aiyah! These Americans, demanding such weird things!"

Alfred took the blanket, thanked the man and went off to find a place where he could settle down.

Turns out, there were a couple of free seats, right next to where he would be checking in tomorrow, so he laid down on them, propped his backpack underneath his head and fell asleep, lulled by the sounds of people chattering and going about their business.

******0o0o0o0o00o0o0o0o0o0o**

Alfred awoke to the sound of the loudspeaker:

"Last check in call for flight 3141 to London! If you're on the 3141 flight to London, please go to the check in immediately and prepare to board."

What?

He jumped up as if splashed with cold water, and ran over to the counter, panicked; if he misses this flight, he'd have nowhere to go.

"I'm here for flight 3141."

"Baggage?"

"Only this."

He showed the bodacious woman his backpack.

"A-aah, is that it?"

"Yes"

"Nothing illegal?"

"No. You can check if you like."

He handed over the bag, just in case. He didn't want to be kicked out.

"Okay, just a second...BROTHER! Could you check this bag please? That's all this passenger's bringing with him to London"

"Da Katyusha, I'll be right there."

A tall blonde man with a prominent nose came over to the counter and started looking through Alfred's bag. Everyone else in the proximity seemed to be shaking in fear at the sight of the man but all Alfred felt was some unexplainable annoyance. Maybe it was the accent...?

"Here you go! Nothing illegal. Have a nice trip~"

The lady said with a smile and handed back his bag.

Well, that was quick.

Alfred all but ran to the boarding gates, slipping in just in time. Phew.

As he and the other passengers got ushered down the tunnel to the entrance of the plane, he couldn't help but wonder. Who would he meet? What would he do? How would he live? How would he cope? What would happen?

These questions still in mind, he sat down in his designated seat next to a quaint Japanese man reading a manga, and waited for lift off.

After about half an hour or so, some staff appeared to demonstrate how to use the lifejackets and oxygen masks in case of an emergency, then the plane started to move.

******0o0o0o0o00o0o0o0o0o0o**

**A/N: Hello! ^_^ Ak1k0l0 here, broadcasting live from the graveyard of unfinished stories that is my laptop's file system.**

**I hope you've enjoyed this first chapter.**

**You see, i've always written one shots and the like, never over 2,000 or so words, so I decided to set myself a challenge to write a longer story. Sort of an initiation ritual into the world of  
**

**Essentially, FIRST MULTICHAPTER, HUZZAH!**

**Also, I have no idea how long American in-between-term holidays are, when they are, or if they even exist, so if anyone knows, please tell. xD**

**Sorry if anything's innacurate or offending!**

**Long A/N is long, short chapter is short, virtual cookies shall be given to everyone, and reviews are greatly appreciated~**

**Thank**


	2. Chapter 2

"Arthur, are you sure we're supposed to be here?"

"No, Toris, we aren't"

"Then why are we?"

"Because it's fun isn't it?"

"No, it's not. We're going to get in trouble! Come on, let's go back to the hotel"

"...tch, killjoy. Fine then, let's go"

Arthur Kirkland packed away his cans of paint, and followed Toris out of the alleyway. Others might call him a vandal but he prefferred the term 'artist'. After all, he never wrote those 'tags' other people did on walls. He always put time and effort into his work, even though it wasn't always appreciated by society.

Arthur was working on a very special piece now. You see, he was in London because apparently he'd recieved great grades so he was chosen to attend this meeting thing where the best students from all over the world gathered and discussed boring study-related stuff. Why he was chosen, he'll never know, but it was a wonderful opportunity to escape the dullness of his hometown and find some blank walls that needed personalisation and colour.

As he was sneaking out of the hotel, he had the good fortune to bump into Toris, a Lithuanian boy who'd recently arrived, so decided to take him as a lookout. Just in case.

Well that was a mistake. Arthur didn't even get any work done. But whatever, might as well go back to the hotel. Rumour has it the Americans were arriving soon.

o0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo 0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0 Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0

Alfred stood up groggily. The flight had taken ages and despite hardly moving for hours on end, he still managed to get tired. He made his way out of the airport and headed over to what looked like the right place. A middle aged man with glasses was holding a sign 'American study exchange group' and a small crowd of teenagers was already sitting around looking bored and tired.

"Uh sir, is this where I go for the international study thing? I got offered a place."

The man looked Alfred over with humour in his eyes and handed him a pamphlet.

"Ya talkin' 'bout this?"

"Yeah."

"Alfred F. Jones, yeah? You're the last un to 'rrive. Come on. We need ta get a move on and get ta the hotel."

"Uh, sure."

Alfred replied lifelessly and followed the group onto a white minibus. It seemed everybody had already found a companion or a group and were chatting merrily the whole bus ride. Alfred would've probably made some friends too, had he been his normal cheery self, but the past few days events had changed him and his happy demeaner. Now, all he could do was look out of the window and think.

Much too soon, the bus arrived at an expensive-looking hotel. Very classy and shiny; the whole nine miles.

Alfred was far too caught up in his thoughts to care much though or be impressed. He walked into the lobby with no enthusiasm, got his room number, and set off. Apparently he was sharing with someone. Poo. Still, better than nothing.

o0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo 0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0 Oo0Oo0Oo0Oo0

Arthur snuck in through the kitchen door. Toris went in the front way. Chicken. Nobody noticed they were gone anyway so all was good. Today was quite tiring for Arthur and he was desperate to get some sleep. He slunked up to his room but stopped in the doorway. Something was very off.

The door was open when he arrived, for one.

There was a bag lying on the spare bed in the corner of the room.

Also lying on the bed was a blonde presence, wearing daggy jeans and a grey hoodie.

"The actual fuck?"

No reaction.

"Hello? Earth to you. What are you doing in my room. Are you that American git the organisers have put me with? Oi, answer for fucks sake!"

Arthur walked over to the bed and squatted down, looking at the newcomers face and poking his shoulder.

It was no use, Alfred was fast asleep.

"Huh? Asleep are we? Not for long."

Arthur pushed the American out of the bed, to which he yelped and sat up, rubbing his head, confused.

"What are you doing in this room?"

A young, blond man with jade green eyes and more than a couple of piercings was looking down at him, and boy, was he irritated.

" Uh. I think i'm meant to be here. The name's Alfred f. Jones, nice to meet you!"

Alfred said, attempting a smile and a cheery tone, as if to make the atmosphere less tense. Unsurprisingly, it didn't work.

"Dear god. Hoorah! No more privacy!"

Arthur muttered sarcastically.

"But eh, whatever. Just don't touch my belongongs and I won't touch you, got it?"

Alfred couldn't thnk of anything to say so instead just nodded.

"Good"

Arthur said, seeing the nod. He then lay down on his bed and proceeded to open up a book. Pride and Prejudice, if you will. He quite liked that one story. It was written with talent, was a timeless classic and even incorporated some humour into it's lines-something books written in that age hardly ever did. But before he could read more than a few pages, that darned American started coughing.

And coughing.

And coughing.

And coughing.

"FOR FUCKS SAKE, SHUT THE BLOODY HELL UP, WILL YOU? GO OUTSIDE OR SOMETHING!"

The coughing stopped. It seemed Arthur had scared the poor git into silence. Hopefully it stayed that way...silent.

He kept on reading, completely engrossed in the story when a poke to the shoulder shook him back to reality.

It was Alfred.

Arthur grit his teeth in frustration.

"What do you want?"

He spit out.

"Um, Arthur, is it? Well i'm new here, you know that though, and I was wondering if you could tell me about what we're doing later on and stuff. I don't think they'll keep us in the hotel forever."

The Brit sighed loudly. It couldn't hurt to tell the brat about the circumstances. Might even get him off his back.

"Yes, we're not going to stay in the hotel, thank god. They're organising apartments for each of us. We're all going to be in the same building though. They're probably going to move us in two days or so. Now, could you please shut up, stop being so bothersome and entertain yourself somehow? Thank you."

Alfred nodded. So that's what was going to happen. He wanted to ask Arthur about more, but he probably wouldn't get much of an answer considering the Englishmans' temperament and the fact that he too, was a student and most likely was confused as well.

Nothing to do but go to sleep then. Alfred hadn't brought any form of entertainment with him. His only clothes were the ones he usually carried as spares in his backpack. All the rest of his belongings had burnt down with the house. And the cat, Missy. He missed her so much. Her soft grey fur, the knowing face, the way she would nuzzle up to him and purr. It reminded him of what kind of situation he was really in. It reminded him to study hard here for the next two months, because if he didn't get a foothold in England, the consequences when he returned to America would be dire.

**A/N**

**PLease don't kill me.**

**I am so so so sorry for updating this late. I started writing this chapter straight after I published the first, but then writers block appeared. I kept saying "I can do it tomorrow" over and over again, so sorry.  
**

***hides in shame*  
**


	3. Chapter 3

"Rise and shine, fucking wanker"

The English teen pinched the American's nose until he started sqirming and eventually toppled out of bed, still cocooned in blankets.

"Wh-what the hell, dude? Why can't I sleep? 'S not like we're going anywhere, you said we'd be moving into the apartments in at least 2 days!"

Alfred questioned, confused, and disgruntled, at having been awoken so rudely.

Sleep is awesome, and Alfred sure as hell needed it.

Arthur sneered and replied.

"Turns out the buggers were quick and nothing messed up. We're moving in today."

"Oh man. But it can't be so early! It's only, what, 8?"

"It's 1 pm, you bag of piss. Now get ready and get your fat arse on the bus"

"Fine, fine, don't get your panties in a twist. Who spat in your cereal today?"

The American was surprised at how this grumpy 17 year could, well, be so grumpy. The thought of home was almost clear from Alfreds' mind by that point. Not forgotten, of course not, but the grief was muted; pushed to the back of his thoughts by the other experiences and events that had since happened. Right now, the main thing occupying his thinking was a plan. A plan to get Arthur to smile. Better yet, to laugh.

Taking last nights' brief conversation, the task wasn't going to be easy. But Alfred was used to not having things easy. He thrived from challenges and hardships, though devastating at first, only made him stronger in the long run. A playful smirk made it's way on to his features.

"Game on"

* * *

**oh my fucking god, so so sorry for the long wait and you guys get only such a short chapter, please dont kill me. *hides* i'll upload another one as soon as possible, maybe tomorrow to make up for everything. again, sorry. /such a horrible writer/**


	4. Chapter 4

The move into the new apartments wasn't that extraordinary or interesting. No incidents happened, nobody died or got maimed. One might think it was boring but for Alfred, it was a welcome calm after the chaos that had recently occurred. An event that didn't spew out all sorts of nasty consequences for a change. His flatmate, Tino, was a nice guy, Finnish, from the accent. He never caused trouble but always seemed to hang around this shady looking tall dude who, honestly, scared the living daylights out of Alfred, but according to Tino, was apparently quite pleasant. Not that it was any of the Americans' business.

Arthur was very hard to find though. Now, this wouldn't usually be a problem but Alfred had vowed to become friends with the Brit, and that was difficult to accomplish if he was nowhere to be seen.

Alfreds' days, when he wasn't neck-deep in assignments, were filled with scouting for Arthur, exploring the distant corners of the apartment complex and questioning any and everyone about the moody teens' whereabouts.

So far, not much luck. He'd found Arthur once, on his routine trip to McDonalds but the other boy had swiftly hid after hearing his name called out. Since then...nothing. Alfred was starting to get irritated. Nevertheless, he was definitely not giving up. Heroes never gave up.

Arthur wasn't happy. He wasn't happy at all. That damned American wouldn't leave him alone, with at least 15 people reporting him asking about Arthurs' location and many more spying him walking around, seemingly searching for someone. Fuck. What does a man have to do to get some peace around here? It's only a matter of time before, Alfred or whatshisname discovers his apartment, and that is not something to look forward to.

What really bothered Arthur was why Alfred would go to all the effort to look for him. What were the boys' motives? Most probably blackmail, a good bashing, or something equally low. Either way, the American was being rather blunt about this whole nonsense. If someone wanted to do harm, wouldn't it be more effective to perform the deed subtly than announcing it beforehand and giving warning? Or maybe that twat just didn't care because he knew that Arthur couldn't run for long and would be caught eventually.

Arthur admitted that he was maybe slightly, only a tiny teensy weensy miniscule bit scared.

Alfred wandered down the corridor that the nice Asian girl pointed out to him and looked down at the number on the card he was holding. "Flat 17". This was it. He'd finally caught up to Arthur.

Arthur was interrupted in his sulking by a knock at the door.

"Wonder who the bloody hell that is...?"

He walked over and unlocked the door, flinging it open.

The British teen stood there, eyes bulging briefly before he let out a very manly shriek of surprise, flew into the hallway, ducking under the Americans' arm in the process, and shot off into the distance with more speed than probably Usain Blot could muster.

Already out of breath, he halted behind a vending machine, finding it a suitable hiding place for the moment. Whilst catching his breath, Arthur froze. The door. He'd left it wide open.

In retrospect, dashing off like that was reckless and silly. He embarrassed himself in front of his probably murderer-to-be and revealed just how weak he can be and how easy it is to take him by surprise. He also left the door open and all his private information displayed in clear view for the scoundrel to use at his leisure. He really fucked up this time, Arthur scolded mentally scolded himself.

There was just one thing. The face there didn't look like the face of a vicious blackmailing serial killer. The boy honestly looked glad to have found him.

Arthur quickly squished that thought into oblivion; often the most cruel ones appeared to be the least so.

* * *

**Hello again. Yay, i've finally updated without a hell long wait :D *glitter and confetti everywhere* still a pretty short chapter but oh well. sorry for that.**


	5. Notice

**And guess who the 'worst author' award goes to...**

Ok, i'm so sorry for hardly ever updating this, but i'm really lacking ideas for this story at the moment and possess no motivation whatsoever so for now, i'm probably going to just upload oneshots until my brain sorts it's shit out.

Once, again, really sorry.


End file.
